Losing Her
by chewinggumandpencils
Summary: The seven times that Severus Snape lost Lily Evans. A seven-part story.
1. The Word

**1**

He'd never wanted to lose her.

He knew as soon as he did, he would never get her again.

That's probably why he'd spent so much time trying to make sure she was still his. Well, she was never really his. Not in that way. Not in the way that mattered. And not from lack of effort either. She was just very oblivious to that, it seems. But that was her only fault. That and, well, being a Gryffindor. Nothing else.

He knew as soon as he saw her that something bad would happen.

To be fair, something bad was already happening. He had already been mad and was in the process of being beaten (mostly figuratively) by the stupid Marauders. She'd come up running, hair flying, anger evident on her face. She looked absolutely beautiful, but he hadn't been able to admire it. Maybe if he had, none of it would have happened.

But he was distracted and he was mad and he let it happen. He didn't know what he would later be willing to give to stop and admire her then. He didn't really think of anything; the anger overriding any logic.

She distracted Potter, not for long, but for long enough. He managed to send a sectumsempra at him. It cut open the stupid prat's cheek, a relatively small injury when you thought about what he deserved.

He knew he'd pay for that and, surely enough, he found himself upside down. She protests, insisting they let him go. Potter, of course, listened to her as only a stupid, besotted git would listen to the object of their infatuation. Potter only thought of her as an object. He was the one that knew how much more she really meant, how much more she was worth.

Potter definitely didn't deserve her, yet he still had the nerve to ask her out.

She looked even more beautiful as she denied him. Not that he noticed, of course. He was still trying to get things together enough to fight back. Yet, she keeps sticking up for him, making him look like an idiot. Thank Merlin his friends aren't out here watching the only thing stopping him from being completely overtaken by them be a Mudblood.

He can't help it. He knows how the others will feel about him if they find out. Potter is taunting him, telling him he was lucky she was there to save him. It just slips out of his mouth.

"I don't need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!" He doesn't even say it to her, he says it to Potter. Yet she hears it and it's the realization of all her fears. All those conversations they had, all the time they spent together, everything disappears with that one little word. He knows she warned him against this. He knows it's the one thing she asked of him. Yet, he was incapable of stopping himself.

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he knows he's messed up. Her expression immediately changes, immediately turns against him. He watches her realize there's no point to her efforts, that she's been wasting her time. He watches all of this, convinced she's realizing how powerless he is. Because that's all that matters, right? How much power someone has? And he has none. It's evident by this simple encounter. So, as she slips away from him in those horrendously long moments, as she makes up her mind, he comes to the conclusion that might have been correct if she had been a Slytherin. But she's not.

Had he lost her then? The moment it became clear that she wasn't?

"Fine." she says, "Then I won't bother in the future."

No. He hadn't lost her then. He was losing her now. It's not possible to lose someone if you've already lost them. She makes some snide remark about washing his pants, fueling Potter's malice towards him and walks away. The only part of her comment that registers is the end. The moment when she calls him 'Snivellus'. Not Sev, not Severus, not even Snape. Snivellus. That's when he knows the thread has snapped.

That's all it takes: a snide remark, a turn, and a few footsteps, and everything he had is gone. His only friend. The love of his life (not that she knew it). Everything he wanted. Gone. In just a few footsteps.

Just a few footsteps was all it took for him to stop fighting. He stopped caring about the bloody Marauders. He stopped caring about what they did to him. What's the point, he thought, of fighting against them if he can't even stop himself from losing his only friend?

He'd lost her.

Of course, he tried to get her back. He did everything he could. But she wouldn't have it. That one word had been too much. She'd fought against that word, fought against losing him, but, as they say, it takes two to tango. She couldn't continue this never ending dance, this never ending fight of saving him if he didn't want to be saved. So she let him go.

And he lost her.

* * *

_A/N: Woah, really long unexpected hiatus much? __Sorry!_

_This is a seven part story. I will (unless something major comes up) post one every day for a week._


	2. The Mark

**2**

He didn't have anything to lose.

In fact, if anything, he had everything to gain.

Power, fame, money, respect.

Her.

Or so he thought.

The only thing he had to lose was his life. And how much was that really worth? To him, it was worth risking in order to get it all.

He didn't think he had anything else to lose. How could you have something to lose if you'd already lost it all? He never had much of a family; his wasn't worth the time. The only true friend he'd ever had had been lost several years before. He had no respect; the idiots known as the Marauders had made sure of that. He had no one that loved him. Why should they? He was just a poor boy with nothing. No power. No influence. No control. Not even over the things that happened to him.

Well, that was all going to change.

He'd get it all soon. And once he had it all, he would get her.

Because that's all that mattered. Power, that is. And that's what she really wanted. Why else would she have fallen for Potter? That's all he had going for him. Power, of course. He had power over those minion friends of his. He had power over the teachers, able to charm his way out of anything. He had power over the school, making most of the school holler with laughter on command. He even had power over Dumbledore. How else would he have gotten Head Boy?

Soon he'd have it all. The moment was almost at hand.

The Dark Lord was in front of him, in front of the group of them. The Dark Lord couldn't stand there possibly being a chance one of them wasn't faithful. The Dark Lord was taking plenty of time, making sure they all wanted it. His arm was out, just like everyone else's, just waiting for it. Waiting for the mark. Because it would be the start. He wouldn't be losing anything. He had nothing to lose. The people around him did. Not him. The mark would be the start of all the things he would gain. It was just the first step to getting her back.

And, besides, he had nothing to lose.

He wasn't the kind of person to believe that you could lose something more than once. Once you'd lost something, you couldn't lose it again. That would require you to find it first. He hadn't found anything yet. He had nothing to lose, he told himself.

He didn't know how often she cried over him. Because she had no reason to cry over him, he thought. He'd lost her. She hadn't lost him.

Since he'd lost her, he had nothing to lose.

That's why his arm was out. The Dark Lord was standing in front of him.

"Severus." the Dark Lord said. He'd proven his allegiance to the Dark Lord. He was ready. The Dark Lord went on, proclaiming that he was indeed ready. The rest of the group looked on in jealousy, wishing it was them.

The Dark Lord's wand was pointed at his arm. It was time. He bowed his head and waited, the last few seconds before he was truly deemed worthy dragging on.

It seemed to take forever. And it might as well have been. His whole forever would be gone once those seconds were gone, but he wouldn't realize it until much later.

Years later, yet in no time at all, the words were uttered and a burning sensation took over his senses. His arm was burning, the evil spreading through his skin, taking over his being.

And then the sensation was gone. It was over. His skin still tingled a little, the evil making sure it wasn't forgotten, but the burning was gone for the moment. He wouldn't feel it again for several days, until the next time the Dark Lord needed something from him, from them. It would be years before the slight tingling would go away. It would eventually come back, but by the time it came back, he would have several years of experience ignoring it. He would slowly teach himself to ignore the tingling (mostly) and to not think about the evil touching his skin, his being, his soul. (Mostly.)

The Dark Lord moved on, finding the next person he believed was worthy.

It would be years before he would realize that that moment was one of the times he lost her.

Once the mark was on his arm, he couldn't go back. He couldn't turn back to her. The mark, the touch of evil, the thing that was supposed to stay solely on his arm turned into invisible walls, surrounding him. It stopped him from turning back, even when he wanted to. It made him lose her again.

But he didn't know it. After all, what did he have to lose?

* * *

_A/N: Yeah. I'm still not really sure where this all came from, but it was nagging at me and not letting me write anything else. So, here this is. I know it's not my best work, but oh well._


	3. The Prophecy

**3**

He didn't know why he did it.

That's a lie. Of course he knew why he did it. He wanted to be favored. He wanted to be the one to deliver this important information. He wanted to gain the preference of his leader. He wanted to be a step closer to power.

He should have known it was going to backfire. Things with Lily were never as simple as they seemed. Of course his attempt at getting her attention would end badly.

"My Lord," he'd said, "I have news for you." He'd told of all that he heard. Of course, he mentioned that he didn't hear the end, but that he'd heard almost all. He'd been so pleased to be the one to deliver this news, to be the one to help the Dark Lord save himself.

He should have listened to her all those years ago. Maybe if he had, he wouldn't be begging for her life right now. He'd lost her already, but he couldn't stand for the world to lose her.

All he needed was to keep her alive. Then she would see his rise to power. Then he would have her again.

But the Dark Lord thought it referred to her son. To Potter's son. He didn't care about the boy. The boy could die. He only cared about Lily.

But he knew Lily would not go down without a fight. She was loyal, a Gryffindor to the end. She wouldn't let some man come and kill her family without a fight. A fight that he knew she would lose. A fight that he knew she was willing to give up if it meant saving her family.

So he begged for Lily. He reduced himself to that level, to the level of those unworthy of him.

Because what's the point in trying to win her over if she's lost to the world? If she's dead?

He tried and tried to get a promise, to get some reassurance from the man he'd given everything for.

The Dark Lord was convinced it had to be Potter. Who knows why. There was another candidate, a pureblood, that fit the same requirements. A candidate that left Lily out of danger.

Because he just KNEW that once he was in power, she wouldn't care about the small losses along the way. She might have to lose her friend, but she would get him. And she would get power. They would have it all.

But the Dark Lord didn't see that. He saw her and her idiot husband and thought that their offspring would be the most threatening. He probably wouldn't mind getting Potter out of the way either, as he was one of the Order's best fighters (so was Lily, but that only meant the Dark Lord would want her on his side).

It would be fine if he didn't know Lily. The sooner he got that Potter out of the way, the better. That son of theirs would only force her loyalty to that swine she married to last longer than it should. He needed the two of them out of the way.

But he needed her.

So he begged. He begged for her life. He begged to not lose any chances he had with her.

Because he had already lost her. And as he begged, he lost some of himself. He lost the allusions he had. He lost his lust for power. Because power is meaningless if she's not there.

He lost his allegiance. As the Dark Lord said he would try to save the 'filthy Mudblood', but would do whatever he had to do to get the boy, he knew he had to get help. He had to go to the one person he never thought he would ask for help.

But the moment the words had left his mouth, he had lost her. He gave her up for his own gain. He sacrificed her for his personal means. And that, he knew, was something Lily would never accept. The voice in the back of his head kept telling him, starting from the moment the Dark Lord thought the prophecy referred to her son, that Lily wouldn't accept such a betrayal.

But he ignored that voice. Because he had to get her back. He had to have hope that she could be won again.

But the moment the words had left his mouth, he knew he had lost her. Not that he ever admitted it of course, not even to himself. Even if Lily did survive, she wouldn't accept him.

Yet, he continued to grovel, putting himself at the feet of whomever could possibly save her.

Because he couldn't stand the thought of the world losing her. Because he knew how much it hurt.


	4. The Death

**4**

He had thought he knew pain. He'd been on the receiving end of some pretty nasty curses and hexes, after all. He'd even been subject to the Cruciatus, part of Bellatrix's "training program". He thought he'd felt it all.

He never knew how much it would hurt to have your heart and soul shattered.

He'd thought he had known. Hadn't his heart shattered when he lost her?

He hadn't believed that something that was already shattered could completely shatter again. His heart had felt whole before this in comparison.

As he walked through the house, he could feel pieces of his heart shattering, grinding themselves up into miniscule, invisible pieces. He barely registered walking over Potter's body. It wasn't important enough. Not at a time like this. He'd seen enough death, enough cold, blank stares for this one to not even register.

Not when he had to find Lily.

Somehow, he knew where she was. He had no control over where he was walking. His feet just kept moving, taking him closer and closer to the spot where he inexplicably knew that she was.

He couldn't believe it. He wouldn't believe it. All the rumors flying around, all the stories being told, they had to be just that- stories.

Because she couldn't be gone.

Not like this.

Not at all.

As he got closer and closer to the room, his sense of dread grew. The scene around him was terrible, the house destructed. His hopes and dreams started fraying slowly, then a little faster, then infinitely so. Yet, he still clung on to the pieces, like a drowning man clings on to a bit of driftwood.

Because that's what he was. Drowning. Because without Lily, how could he ever breathe?

His footsteps faltered right outside the room, right around the corner from where he would get all his answers. Right around the corner from what could be the happiest sight of his life. Right around the corner from what could be the worst.

It was too quite. That, alone, gave him a bit of motivation. If the stories were true, wouldn't Potter's son be crying with no one to comfort it? Lily, his precious Lily, must still be there, comforting the child.

That thought gave him the motivation to keep going, to turn that corner.

And then he shattered.

He'd thought he'd known pain.

But he'd never known this. This heart-wrenching agony that tore apart the entirety of his being, leaving only pain and the ability to feel it.

He thought he'd already lost her. Yet, as he approached her chilling body, he started to realize that he had, in fact, just lost her again.

That thought did nothing but make the pain worse. The mere thought that, despite the fact that he had already lost her, he had managed to be idiotic enough to lose her again only worked to make the pain unbearable.

He fell to his knees next to her, unable to stand the grief.

Somehow, without him registering it, she was in his arms. But she wasn't. It wasn't her. It couldn't be. This body, this shell of a person was not, could not, be Lily. She was completely there, yet there was something missing.

Some part of her greater than the sum of the parts of her.

She was gone.

He'd lost her.

No matter how hard he tried, he kept losing her.

He didn't know how long he stayed there. He might have never left.

The child startled him out of his reverie. The child, crying, seemingly realizing something was wrong.

It wouldn't do to be found a Death Eater at the scene of the crime.

Somehow, agonizingly, he let her body go. Somehow, he managed to Disapparate.

For the next three days, only one thought ran through his head.

I lost her.

* * *

_A/N: So yeah, not really sure about this. But I promised I wouldn't take forever to post these, so here it is._

_Sorry if it's terrible. I promise I'll return to my usual one-shots and stuff soon._


	5. The Boy

_A/N: Anything you recognize isn't mine. Sorry this took so long and sorry it's so bad, but this one took me forever and my beta hasn't had any time, so yeah._

* * *

"You haven't even met the boy, Severus."

No, he hadn't. Dumbledore was right. But why did he need to? The boy would obviously be exactly like Potter. He told Dumbledore this and Albus just shook his head and smiled in that way of his.

But Albus wasn't right. He couldn't be. This was Potter's son. There was no way that he couldn't be just as arrogant.

But he was lying to himself.

He was telling himself it would be a new James Potter, but who was he kidding, really? He prayed, hoped, _yearned_ for the child to be like Lily.

But it couldn't be.

For it was Potter's son.

The child couldn't have possibly ended up like Lily. The boy couldn't possibly have the kindness, the tenderness, the understanding that was Lily.

For it was Potter's son.

The child would be a troublemaker, doing things solely for attention and praise, like Potter. The boy couldn't possibly be as selfless as Lily was.

The boy had to be completely spoiled, just as Potter was. He couldn't possibly understand what it was like for people to not like him. Petunia had to have spoiled him out of remorse for Lily's de- for never making amends with Lily.

Dumbledore just kept smiling at him, almost as if he knew his thoughts.

"Give the boy a chance, Severus. You haven't even met him yet. What if he is like Lily?"

He looked up to meet Dumbledore's gaze, seeing something remotely resembling pleading in Dumbledore's eyes.

"Just remember, Severus, he does have his mother's eyes."

The boy couldn't possibly be like Lily.

But what if he was?

The thought haunted him the rest of the day as he wandered the corridors of Hogwarts alone.

What if he was?

There was no possible way that he could be like Lily. This was Potter's son!

But what if he was?

He didn't think he could stand the thought.

But what if he was?

Every footstep seemed to ask the question, every portrait seemed to plead for an answer.

Lily's son couldn't possibly be like her. Not so long as the child was a Potter.

But what if he was?

He couldn't possibly be.

Yet, as the first of September approached, he felt somewhat different. It was an odd feeling, one of anxiety.

He would reserve judgment until he met the child. Though it couldn't possibly be like Lily.

He first saw the child at the start-of-term feast. The mere sight of him made him feel like a first-year again, waiting for Potter and Black to attack him.

He looked just like his father.

So he couldn't possibly be like Lily.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

" – mediocre, arrogant as his father, a determined rule-breaker, delighted to find himself famous, attention-seeking and impertinent –"

"You see what you expect to see, Severus." said Dumbledore.

You see what you expect to see. As always, Dumbledore was right.

His expectations had been met. Not only had they been met, they had been completely proven correct. He should have felt smug, having finally proven Dumbledore wrong. Potter was not like Lily. He was truly a Potter.

But his expectations hadn't matched his hopes.

"Keep an eye on Quirrell, won't you?"

He'd been hoping.

Yearning for the child to be like Lily.

Desperate to know that she and everything she had been wasn't completely gone.

That she lived on in her child.

That he hadn't completely failed her.

That she wasn't totally gone.

The child was like Potter, through and through.

He couldn't be like her.

The last possibility he had to interact with a part of her was gone.

And she was gone.

She was completely gone.

He didn't sleep that night.

* * *

_A/N: Yeah... _


	6. The Realization

A/N: Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

* * *

"I should have expected something like this from Potter. How does Dumbledore expect me to help him when he pulls stunts like this?" he asked out loud to the portraits in his office as he smacked that day's Daily Prophet on the table in front of him.

The portraits ignored him, as usual. They were used to this kind of complaint. He knew that no one else would hear. No one came up here these days. Minerva absolutely and openly loathed him. He'd have to remember to apologize once this was all over. It wouldn't do to have her mad at him. He'd never hear the end of it from Lily.

He got up from his desk and started pacing the room, following the invisible trail he started almost seventeen years ago.

How could Potter be so dim as to try something that big? He had to know that they were looking for him everywhere. Breaking into Gringotts is a stupid enough idea on its own. But at a time like this? It was preposterous! It was idiotic! It was ridiculous! It was asking to be caught! It was… actually kind of smart.

He stopped in his tracks. Could it possibly be that a stunt like that was actually a good idea?

Obviously the boy survived. And he obviously made it very far if the rumor that he escaped on a dragon was true.

It allowed the public to know he was still around.

It showed he still had power.

It defied the Dark Lord doubly by being in a public place.

It was something Lily would do.

That thought, that mere collection of words, took over the rest of his thoughts.

It was something Lily would have done.

Lily, his precious Lily, would have done that.

Lily would have gone after the Philosopher's Stone. She would have found the Chamber of Secrets and saved Ginny Weasley. She had always wondered about the Chamber of Secrets during her time at Hogwarts. She would have saved Sirius Black, even when she hated him. She would have gone to the Department of Mysteries. She would have tried out every new spell. Wasn't she always yelling at him when she tried one of his new spells that she had found?

Lily would have done everything Potter did.

His knees went weak. He had to grab on to his desk to stop himself from toppling over.

Lily would have done everything her son did.

Harry did everything as Lily would have.

Lily wasn't a bully. She did everything as fairly as she could. She was never mean.

Harry did everything she would have done.

Harry was never a bully.

Harry wasn't like Potter.

Harry was like his mum.

Harry was more like Lily.

At some point, tears had started streaking his face.

Would he have ever treated Lily as he did Harry?

He would have lost her.

Harry was just like Lily.

He had lost her once by treating her badly.

And he could have just as easily lost her again.

If this, the last remaining piece of Lily, her son, was like her, hadn't he essentially treated HER that way?

Harry didn't trust him. Harry didn't even like him.

He'd isolated himself from the last piece of Lily.

A sob escaped his throat.

He'd lost her again.

He spent the rest of the night crying.

None of the portraits interrupted him.

* * *

A/N: Sad face. So this was a quick update. The next (and last) one won't be as quick. Sorry.


	7. The End

He was dying.

He was on the ground and bleeding and Voldemort was gone and he was dying.

And he had failed. He had lost Lily, over and over, and he had failed.

He had failed Albus. He had failed the Wizarding World.

He had failed Lily. Lily had sacrificed her life, given up everything trying to end this. Harry was supposed to follow her example.

Harry wouldn't know what to do.

He had failed.

The blood was gushing, covering the floor, the grimy floor, and staining his robes.

Why did it matter? He had failed.

He was haunted. The memories there, intact, unshared. The look in her eyes, the words Dumbledore said, his past, her past. Their past. The instructions. The way to end it. The slaughter.

Haunting him

He was dying, a failure.

Except.

The boy was there.

Harry was there.

He was dying and Harry was there.

The green eyes locked onto his, the rest of Harry's features fading away.

He wouldn't fail.

"Take… them." He pushes all the memories to the front of his mind, shoving them out, using his last bit of strength to get those memories out, to tell Harry. He felt some of his more precious memories leaving him, needed to explain to the boy.

To explain to Lily's son.

The memories poured out of him, painfully, oh so painfully.

But not any more painful than they were in his head.

They came out wherever they could, anywhere that they could leave,

The girl, of course the girl, the girl he hadn't even seen before, hadn't noticed, is the one to conjure a container. The memories are lifted off his face, taken away. They're gone. The memories, the haunting memories are gone. They're where they need to be.

A sense of peace rushed over him, but it was fleeting.

He needed her.

He needed her, but he'd lost her. Fear took over, fear of the unknown, fear of never having another chance.

He needed Lily. But he'd lost her so many times. And now, when he was losing everything, everything he didn't know he had, all those little things he never looked twice at, everything.

All he needed was her.

"Look…"

He was dying. And he was thinking.

"at…"

He felt his head getting lighter, losing consciousness.

He'd lost Lily. He always lost Lily. He always failed. But maybe, this once,

"me."

he hadn't failed.

He locked his black eyes with the green eyes, and took his dying breath.

He saw Lily.

* * *

_A/N: So this is it. I sold my soul for... Wait, no._

_Sorry this last one took so long. I was out of town all summer and this school year has been insane for me._

_Let me know what you think!_


End file.
